Page 3 of The Reaper

“Don’t worry, I’m Hannah, I’m a nurse here, we need to get you inside and-”

He groaned, his eyelids fluttered closed, caked in scabs of dried blood.

She dared to put her hands on him, examining for stab wounds, feeling for broken bones.

“No I… fuck…” he stuttered, his breath too shallow to do more than let out a whisper. She bent closer to him, looking into his eyes. Dark brown, desperate eyes. “”Who am I?” he finally uttered.

Hannah blinked down at him. And the way he looked up at her, it was exactly how she felt, too. An instant warmth of recognition washed over her. He was just as trapped, just as helpless as she felt.

A handsome, strong, motorcycle club member. With amnesia.

She had seconds to act. Micro-seconds. She had to make a decision, right then and there.

“You are mine, my new beginning.” She uttered.

The door to the yard clattered open behind her. “Hannah, you know protocol, you have to sign out, you shouldn’t be-”

She had seconds to act. Micro-seconds. She had to make a decision, right then and there.

She looked down into the man’s eyes.

“What the hell… Quick! Call it in, medical emergency, Hannah, stay with him, we’ll get a stretcher and a trauma kit…Who is he?” Words echoed in the background as her brain whirred.

She made up her mind. She blinked and swallowed and didn’t break eye contact.

“He’s my… he’s my… boyfriend, he’s… mine.”

The others paused. There was a silence. Something in the universe clicked into place. She watched him with bated breath. He nodded, his eyes roving over her face, searching for truth, for familiarity. His glare was almost shy, almost angry, almost intimate. It was a heady combination for her, it evoked that feeling within her, she wanted to fill him with hope, she wanted more for him. She wanted to be his. She wanted him to be hers. It was impulsive and greedy and delicious all at the same time. He seemed to nod, and sigh, satisfied with her answer, and then he slipped out of consciousness and slumped in her arms.

He was hers. That was the thought that she silently screamed in her head as his pupils bottomed out and his eyelids shut as he lost consciousness; She wanted to be his. She wanted him to be hers.

CHAPTER

TWO

JACK

He grit his teeth.He could have an olympic medal for the amount of tenacity with which he could grit his teeth. It felt like his body was smashing through a pane of glass. Consciousness was a sheet of something hard and sharp and his body crashed through into the world of the living.

He cried out, he heard himself, he felt his lips crack as he did so. He struggled up, pulling himself painfully into consciousness, though every part of his body hurt. He opened his eyes. One felt puffy, it didn’t open properly. He forced himself to breathe in and out, as deeply as he could, which was not very much at all, as his chest hurt.

He was in a hospital ward. Big, big windows to outside, on one side. Windows to the corridor inside, also. Blinds were drawn, it was dark, there were lights on. He tried to move his body, tried to sit up a bit, everything hurt.

He wasn’t alone though. There was a throng of people buzzing around him. Noise, voices, trying to be quiet and somehow managing to be loud. Anxious and shocked.

She was there.

He saw her face, hovering above him, blonde hair falling off her shoulder as she bent down. Her fingers worked to insert his IV line, getting saline and antibiotics, into the back of his hand. Not his Reaper hand. They all worked on him, a hushed volume, yet everyone in the ward was wired. Fraut.

The man in a suit stood with his hands on his hips. He looked like he was in charge. Jack’s eyes strained to read the ID badge on his lanyard. Prison Governor. “He shouldn’t be here. We aren’t equipped for this-”

Prison? What the fuck?

Someone else chattered, “He’s pinging on the system, we took his finger prints, Jack Winters. His profile is locked down, which means-”

“He’s probably witness protection-”

He wasn’t fucking witness protection. Was he?

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